Age Old Questions Finally Answered

OK guys, in the continuing series of "Mr. C's Helpful Hints for Men" I have stumbled upon an explanation and answer to two of man's most enduring questions, "Why does it take women so damned long to go to the bathroom?" and "Why does it take two of them to do it?"

Here's your answer, from a woman's perspective:

Ladies, you know when you have to visit a public bathroom, you usually find a line of women, so you smile politely and take your place. Once it's your turn, you check for feet under the stall doors. Every stall is occupied. Finally, a door opens and you dash in, nearly knocking down the woman leaving as you do.

You get in to find the door won't latch.. It doesn't matter, the wait has been so long you are about to wet your pants! The dispenser for the modern "seat covers" (invented by someone's Mom, no doubt) is handy, but empty.

You would hang your purse on the door hook, if there was one,but there isn't - so you carefully, but quickly drape it around your neck, (Mom would turn over in her grave if you put it on the FLOOR!), yank down your pants, and assume " The Stance."

In this position your aging, toneless(God I should have gone to the gym!!!)thigh muscles begin to shake.. You'd love to sit down, but you certainly hadn't taken time to wipe the seat or lay toilet paper on it, so you hold "The Stance".

To take your mind off your trembling thighs, you reach for what you discover to be the empty toilet paper dispenser. In your mind, you can hear your mother's voice saying, "Honey, if you had tried to clean the seat, you would have KNOWN there was no toilet paper!" Your thighs shake more..

You remember the tiny tissue that you blew your nose on yesterday -the one that's still in your purse. (Oh yeah, the purse around your neck, that now, you have to hold up trying not to strangle yourself at the same time). That will have to do. You crumple it in the puffiestway possible. It's still smaller than your thumbnail.

Someone pushes your door open because the latch doesn't work. The door hits your purse, which is hanging around your neck in front of your chest, and you and your purse topple backward against the tank of the toilet. "Occupied!" you scream, as you reach for the door, dropping your precious,tiny, crumpled tissue in a puddle on the floor, lose your footing altogether, and slide down directly onto the TOILET SEAT. It is wet of course.

You bolt up, knowing all too well that it's too late. Your bare bottom has made contact with every imaginable germ and life form on the uncovered seat because YOU never laid down toilet paper - not that there was any, even if you had taken time to try.

By this time, the automatic sensor on the back of the toilet is so confused that it flushes, propelling a stream of water like a fire hose against the inside of the bowl that sprays a fine mist of water that covers your butt and runs down your legs and into your shoes.

The flush somehow sucks everything down with such force that you grab onto the empty toilet paper dispenser for fear of being dragged in too.

At this point, you give up. You're soaked by the spewing water and the wet toilet seat.

You're e-x-h-a-u-s-t-e-d.

You try to wipe with a gum wrapper you found in your pocket and then slink out inconspicuously to the sinks. You can't figure out how to operate the faucets with the automatic sensors, .....so you wipe your hands with spit and a dry paper towel and walk past the line of women still waiting.

You are no longer able to smile politely to them.

As you exit, you spot your hubby, who has long since entered, used, and left the men's restroom. Annoyed, he asks, "What took you so long, and why is your purse hanging around your neck?" 

This is dedicated to women everywhere who deal with a public restrooms (rest??? you've GOT to be kidding!!). It finally explains to the men what really does take us so long. It also answers their other commonly asked questions about why women go to the restroom in pairs. It's so the other gal can hold the door, hang onto your purse, and hand you Kleenex under the door!

Of Heaven and Angels and Things That Go "Bump" In The Night

One thing about going through a death in the family is all of the people who come up to you and say things like, "She's in a better place now," or "She's now in heaven where she wants to be," or "She's only gone from this earth but you can still talk to her, she's listening."

My mom's father was a Theosophist. Theosophists believe in reincarnation. Therefore, so did my mom. Me, I'm agnostic. I don't know what I "believe in", if anything. However, every time I'm exposed to this type of thing, I'm reminded of something that happened to a close friend.

The following was a very early post, before many of you found my site, and me yours. I believe this is a good time to re-post it. It seems apropos.

“Nana’s Watching You”

This story is true. If it weren't from one of my oldest childhood friends, I might not give it the time of day. But it is, so here it is...

My friend and his wife were looking for a home in the historic district of Columbus, Georgia. After several months, they found an old Victorian fixer-upper on a picturesque street just a couple of blocks off of the Chattahoochee River and began work on it.

About a year after they moved in I was traveling in the area and stopped by for a visit. Now my buddy and I have a long tradition of evening chats over bourbon and cigars and so it was on the second night of my visit. Sitting on the veranda, watching the night fall and the street lights come on one by one up and down the tree-lined street. As usual, the discussion centered around Formula 1 and his vintage Alfa Romeo before turning to more eclectic interests.

After a brief pause, he asked, "Did you sleep OK last night?" Now my buddy, apart from living in a house still under repair, is a college professor and a "collector." His homes eventually turn into in-city land fills with books and papers and magazines and whatnot filling every nook and cranny of every room, (I seem to collect friends who are collectors.) the guest room being no exception, with just enough free space for a twin bed and dresser top. Thinking this the object of his concern for my comfort I, of course replied, "Yeah. I slept fine."

"You didn't hear anything?" he inquired. Wondering if he and the Mrs. had gotten it on and he was afraid I had heard them, I replied "No." He pressed, "You didn't hear anything on the stairs?" After thinking about it a moment I replied, "Yeah, now that you mention it, I guess I do remember someone going down to the bathroom. Why?" "Because no one went down to the bathroom," he replied.

After digesting that for a moment, I said, "Are you telling me there's a ghost in the house?" He nodded, "Yep." "There used to be several of them," he continued. "They were making so much noise that (his wife) was scared half to death. I had to hire an exorcist to get rid of them. All except this one, but he seems harmless enough."

I said, "Alright, you've got my attention."

He told me he did some research and found that following the Civil War, the house became a home for wounded war veterans, several of whom died there. Later it became a boarding house but no one would stay for long because of all of the bumps in the night. Several times the house was bought and eventually sold because the owners couldn't handle it. It sat vacant for some years before my buddy bought it... at a bargain price.

He said when he thinks back on it, he remembers when they first stopped to look at it he was peering into one of the windows when he had the distinct feeling of someone standing next to him. Not just that, but there was a strong human odor as well. He looked around and, of course, no one was there. “I didn’t think much of it at the time,” he said. “I just thought some vagrant had urinated on the wall. But now I know what it was.”

Curious about the exorcist, I asked how he found one and what they did. He said he found one by simply asking around and that she basically burned a bunch of candles and some incense and made some markings by each of the doors accompanied by a chant. By the next night, all of the ghosts were gone except for one, who still remains.

I saw my friend just a few months ago and asked about the ghost. Was he still there? "Yep," he replied. "He likes to play little tricks. For awhile we would come out in the morning to take the dogs for a walk and find knots tied in their leashes. We kept them on the back porch so we thought some neighborhood kids were fooling around. Then we brought them inside and it still happened. But then it stopped. The dogs used to whine and act uneasy but they've gotten used to him. But you can tell when he's in the room because they can sense him and lift their heads and look around."

I asked him, "Doesn't it bother you to know something's watching you?" He said, "It used to but now we never think about it. If he doesn't like it he can leave."

It makes me wonder if Nana is watching me every time I slip into the bathroom to wang dang my doodle.

Hate to say "I Told You So"... But I Did!

Mark my words:  The guy who flew the plane into the IRS building in Austin, TX, is just the tip of the iceberg.

There will be many more such events to follow as more and more people wake up to the fact that our economic and governmental systems are corrupt to the core and are left destitute by the rapists and looters who lead our financial and governmental institutions.

The news media branded the pilot's blog post and scathing depictions of the IRS, government bailouts, and "coporate America's thugs and plunderers" as "ranting" when in truth, he hit the nail on the head.  It's worth noting that the notorious Uni-bomber's manifesto illucidated the same complaints.  Blog after blog carry the same message.

Is it fair that innocents suffer as a result of these people breaking?  Of course not.  The workers killed in the latest attack are innocent victims struggling to keep their heads above water just like the rest of us. 

But when people are stripped bare while corporate fat cats and politicians float off in their golden parachutes more and more of those people are going to arrive at the same conclusion as the pilot, Joseph A. Stack, "Violence is the only answer.  The only answer."

Hopefully I'm wrong.  Hopefully, people will wake up, turn the bastards out and take control of our government.  Hopefully, people will wake up and realize that things like worker's unions and socialist democracy are not evil but the salvation of the middle class. 

Hopefully, but I wouldn't bet on it.

Thank You Blogger Buddies

My heartfelt thanks and appreciation to all of you for your kind words of sympathy.

I'll be back in the saddle with a new post in a day or so.

Mr. Charleston

Mr. Charleston is Mourning

Mr. Charleston is mourning the passing of his beloved mother.

She led a full life of nearly 90 years and died as she wanted, peacefully, in her sleep, in her own bed.  My mother, my parents, were one of the biggest blessings of my life and made me one of the luckiest people on earth.  Predeceased by my father, her husband of nearly 60 years, mom was the loving, supportive and forgiving mother we all want but few are lucky to have.

A part of me is gone and I will miss her terribly.

If you don't hear from me for a few days, you know why.  I promise I'll be back, as ornery as ever.

Mr. Charleston

We The People are Fed-Up!

An open letter to my U.S. Representatives, Crenshaw and Brown:

It’s happened to me again. Again, I am forced to purchase a commonly prescribed medication from a foreign country because of our broken health care system.

Again, the medication is a common one. A name brand that’s been around for years and is advertised on TV.

The prescription costs me $40 for 30 doses even with Medicare Advantage. The cost without health insurance, a whopping $104! The same name brand prescription costs $30 for 30 doses in Canada. The generic equivalent, available everywhere on earth except in the U.S., costs $30 for 90 doses in Canada.

Within the year, when the generic equivalent is available in the U.S., the cost for this medication will be $4 for 30 doses at Walmart. How can that be?

There is no excuse for the cost of medication being higher here than elsewhere in the world, and certainly no excuse for generic equivalents not being available here but available everywhere else in the world. Tell me, why is it that Medicare is prohibited from either bidding the cost of medications or from purchasing them from overseas?

Mr. Crenshaw and Ms. Brown, we Americans are fed-up with being taken to the cleaners by the pharmaceutical industry, aided and abetted by an incompetent and corrupt Congress.

We want health care reform and we don’t care if it rides in on a pachyderm or a jack-ass. We want you to work together to make it happen and if you can’t do that, we will find someone who can.

Sincerely,

Mr. Charleston

So You Think You've Got Talent

This is a truly remarkable artist and well worth a look.

The video shows the winner of "Ukraines Got Talent", Kseniya Simonova, 24, drawing a series of pictures on an illuminated sand table showing how ordinary people were affected by the German invasion during World War II.

The Great Patriotic War, as it is called in Ukraine , resulted in one in four of the population being killed with 8 to 11 million deaths out of a population of 42 million.

The images, projected onto a large screen, moved many in the audience to tears and she won the top prize of about £75,000.

So You Think You're Smart

Maybe the single most destructive thing to happen to the earth and its inhabitants is the Judeo-Christian-Muslim concept that man alone is blessed by God and the world and all of its creatures were created for us to do with and use as we will (followed closely by "Go Forth and Multiply.")

Centuries of collective knowledge and technical achievements has created an arrogance so comprehensive that most people have no clue as to the importance of the ecosystem to our own survival, and worse, has created an immoral apathy towards the fate of our fellow travelers on This Island Earth that is the farthest thing from any written word of God's intentions.

A couple of insights into the beauty and intelligence of Mother Nature.



Found at the NY Times:

A honeybee brain has a million neurons, compared with the 100 billion in a human brain. But, researchers report, bees can recognize faces, and they even do it the same way we do.

BUZZING The path of a bee as it learned the configuration of a human face. Researchers found that bees could also distinguish one face from another


Bees and humans both use a technique called configural processing, piecing together the components of a face — eyes, ears, nose and mouth — to form a recognizable pattern, a team of researchers report in the Feb. 15 issue of The Journal of Experimental Biology.